


greatwolf chained

by fitzefitcher



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, Warcraft Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzefitcher/pseuds/fitzefitcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the warcraft kinkmeme: “After the fall of Theramore, Jaina seeks to break Garrosh of his pride. Pretty much, I just want to see Jaina totally dominating him with magic.”</p>
<p>so many fenrir metaphors so little time</p>
            </blockquote>





	greatwolf chained

**Author's Note:**

> given the ending I'm not sure if this actually counts as dubcon but tagged anyway just in case, because there is still the implication

The human witch has his hands tied apart from each other; some sort of enchanted silken fetter tied to posts stuck in the ground and won’t rip or tear no matter how Garrosh tries. Hers is a gentle cruelty, touching him too lightly until he’s squirming and too sensitive and desperate for a harsher hold.

“You must learn some manners,” Jaina says over his growling, gratingly casual as she runs the tips of her fingers down his chest and he can do nothing but struggle under these tender bonds. He’s past the point of coherent, snarling at her like a ravenous dog kept from its dinner. Perched above him, thighs on either side of his ribs but not touching, she smiles at him sweetly, infuriatingly, and when the breadth of her fingers is spread over the dark, swirling tattoos covering his chest, he hates, hates, hates the anticipation that accompanies it, hates that his entire body arches to meet her, and _hates_ that she fucking _snickers_ at him like he’s the one being unreasonable.

But most of all, most of all, he hates the sharp gasp that leaves him when her hands finally make contact with his skin, grip surprisingly rough for such a delicate-looking creature as she wraps her fingers around his muscled flesh.

“Perhaps if you ask nicely, I will reward you,” she offers, voice dripping with honey and nails digging into his skin. He bites off a hiss between his teeth and his hips rock upwards once uselessly at the air between his groin and hers, his cock throbbing for attention, thickened and flushed. He can’t see it, can’t seem to drag his eyes away from hers while she pins him down with a saccharine smile and blue eyes piercing and predatory, but he can smell the warm, potent scent of what lies between her legs, knows that it lays bare and ripe for the taking.

Jaina begins to press kisses into the nape of his neck, soft and tender while she takes his nipples between her fingers and kneads them so, so lightly that his breath stutters in his throat.

“ _Please_ ,” Garrosh begs, barely above a whisper, but he can feel her smile into his neck before she sinks her teeth in and he can do nothing but cry out in pain and relief when her canines dig into the tendon there, when she finally closes her thighs around his ribs and sits on his stomach, her cunt pressed against the shaft of his throbbing cock.

“Good boy,” she praises mildly, and grinds and grinds and grinds against him while he moans and pulls uselessly at his fetters.

Her thighs are soft and thick, warm as they’re squeezing his ribcage tight enough to hurt, and her cunt is wet and warm as she rubs it up and down his shaft, and it’s- it’s not enough, not nearly enough. Even when she gives him what he wants, she still finds a way to torment him relentlessly with it, dangling it in front of his face knowing full well he doesn’t have the means to take it. He absolutely loathes how fucking badly he wants this, but what’s worse is that she knows, smirking at him smugly, canines glinting between her lips in the low light while this wretched desire consumes him.

“ _Please_ ,” he hisses lowly, trying to arch his back under her weight, trying to get more in whatever way he can, but infuriatingly, she moves with him, preventing him from getting any closer to her while somehow continuing to grind away like she doesn’t fucking hear the noises coming out of him. He knows she can; he can see it in the twitch of her lips as she smiles, licking them like he doesn’t fucking notice it even though the sight of it sends little jolts down his spine.

“Please, what?” she asks coyly, voice breathy in the best-worst way. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rakes her nails down his chest again, causing him to shudder, even more so when she drags them back up and skirts the edge of his nipples and a gasp stutters out his mouth.

She knows what he fucking wants, edging the entrance of her cunt over the head of his cock until it catches on the rim, slick and wet and warm, and before he can even respond past inhaling sharply and his cock giving a particularly painful throb, she takes it away, the air feeling cold on his overheated skin. He gives the fetters a tug again, pulling hard, but they keep him from thrashing around too violently, the shining, silken things tightening around his wrists to the point of pain if he dare misbehave too badly. He groans under her lovingly cruel ministrations, seething with impotent rage while the pain-pleasure she causes shoots hot sparks up his body.

He cannot keep his mouth shut for too long, despite his fury; the desire thrumming through his veins is far too ravenous, and when she finally, finally stops grinding on him, it ignites and burns right through the rage, leaving him wanting. She’s content to lay herself over his chest and begin again to press kisses to the side of his neck, and the slick folds of reddened flesh between her legs lay just out of reach. He tries to buck his hips upwards, tries to get her back to where she was, but he is only met with cold air. It’s not too long before words slip through his lips before he can stop himself.

“Please, just,” he grits through his teeth. “Let me fuck you.” She hums thoughtfully into his neck, continuing to lave it with tongue and teeth while he shakes and shudders.

“I’m not sure that you deserve it,” she muses impishly, carelessly running her nails down the other side of his neck to his waist. She giggles at the hiss he produces, and digs them in deep enough to draw blood, the scratches stinging sharply.

“Why don’t you try asking again?” she suggests with a false sweetness, all poisoned honey and wolfish leering. The lust evident in her voice fuels his own, coiling at the base of his spine with a heady pressure despite himself.

“Please, let me fuck you,” he tries again, but something in his voice cracks and it comes out a whine. He can feel his face flush, ashamed of himself, but this must be what she’s looking for; all at once there’s a heated glint in her eye and she’s biting down on her bottom lip, as if trying to contain herself. His cock twitches but once at the sight, and the corners of her mouth curl upwards, not a smile so much as gleefully baring her teeth to show her dominance over him.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” she murmurs into his ear, soft and breathy. She props herself back up, positioning herself over his throbbing erection, standing at attention with anticipation. It’s still slick from her rubbing her wet cunt up and down it, but she still takes her time in taking it in. She slowly works past the head and pauses, inhaling a little raggedly, and he can’t stop trembling, trying to keep himself from ramming further upwards into that tight, wet warmth when she could just as easily take it from him.

Several minutes pass by agonizingly slowly, her carefully working down to the hilt, and when she finally bottoms out, he’s losing his fucking mind. This is what she wanted, winding him up too tightly until his senses were fucking scraped raw, until he couldn’t think past this, past her clenching around his cock and taking fast, shallow breaths. When she begins to move, finally, rocking herself up and down on him and a blush spreading from her ears all the way down her body, he thoughtlessly tries to grasp her hips before finding his hands wrenched back by the fetters. He snarls, halfway through it becoming something pitiful, something closer to a sob, and it’s not fair, it’s just not fucking fair-

“I want to touch you,” he pleads, the words bursting out his mouth before they’re even a coherent thought in his head. She chuckles at him, not ceasing in her actions.

“You want a lot of things,” she teases huskily. “What a greedy little beast you are.” More sure of herself, she picks up the pace a bit, fucking herself on him faster, thighs pumping relentlessly. He gives a needy little cry, and pulls and pulls and pulls on the fetters to no avail.

“Please, just let me touch you,” he begs.

“If you must,” she replies exaggeratedly, as if this is a great burden for her to bear. Still, she whispers something under her breath, the words unclear, and the fetters glow faintly for a moment before fading back to their normal color. He gives them a tentative tug, and finds no pullback. Hands unsteady, he reaches out for her waist, grasping it with both hands. Her skin is soft and warm and gleaming with sweat, and his hands wander down to the swell of her hips and linger, thumbs rubbing circles there. She hisses under his touch, nails clawing into his skin again, and a moan stutters out his mouth.

She pushes down harder, fucks herself deeper, and keeps going and going with this until his vision blacks out for a moment and he’s seeing stars, until whimpers and cries are stuttering out her own mouth as well and she’s squeezing tight around his shaft and milking it to the very last drop.

Her breathing’s still a bit unsteady when she pulls off of him a minute or so later, standing over him, fluids dripping down the inside of her thighs. His body, beyond overheated before, cools down quickly with this lack of motion, almost to the point of being uncomfortable but not quite, the last bit of warmth lingering. Jaina whispers something he doesn’t quite understand again, and the fetters around his wrists disappear completely. They leave a red ring behind on each wrist, the skin where it was squeezed red and irritated. He sits up, rubbing at the welts, and she kneels down beside him.

“I didn’t go too far, did it?” she checks, corners of her mouth curled up but apologetic, still, brows drawn together and worried.

“No,” he replies a bit peevishly. “I would’ve told you.” She nods, but still asks:

“Are you alright?” She gives him a preemptive look over, cringing a little bit at the cuts her nails left behind, at the bruises no doubt forming where her teeth had sunk in.

“I’m alright,” he answers, and this seems to satisfy her, audibly sighing with relief. She reaches out towards his jawline, hands hovering a little awkwardly as she watches him, waiting for his consent. He nods, and gently, she grasps either side of his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips and then pressing her forehead to his. He places his hands on either side of her jaw as well, and is pleased with the contented exhale that leaves her mouth.

“Alright, then,” she starts. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”


End file.
